


When a demon gets bored

by InkForBlood (tuzitokki)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Demons, Graphic Description, Matricide, Murder, Murder Family, Patricide, Possession, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuzitokki/pseuds/InkForBlood
Summary: What happens when a demon gets bored?





	When a demon gets bored

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work that I did a few years ago as writing practice, cross-posted from my dead fictionpress account.
> 
> PLEASE BE WARNED: This work contains graphic descriptions of several murders. Someone once called it, if I remember correctly, "high-octane nightmare fuel" and I kid you not, I can't even read the whole thing without feeling sick. I wonder what that says about me.

Blood. There was blood everywhere; on the floor, the walls, even on the low ceiling. It drenched the once-pristine curtains, pooled at the small crevices on the uneven earth floor of the small hut. It dripped from the gleaming point of the butcher knife held in small, narrow hands—hands that were covered with the same metallic-smelling sticky liquid.

The quiet was abruptly broken by the clanging of the sharp object dropping to the floor, accompanied by breathless gasps from the figure that had wielded it with animalistic abandon only moments ago. The girl—who had not yet even celebrated her twelfth birthday—collapsed to her knees, staring wide-eyed at her blood-drenched, shaking hands. Then her eyes roamed over the small room, taking in the havoc that she had done.

Her mother's body lay on the floor near the kitchen sink, arms and legs sprawled haphazardly around her. Her fingernails, which were torn and encrusted with blood, were obviously the cause of the deep groove marks on the floor around her. Her eyes were wide open and staring blankly at nothing, already starting to film over with death. A length of rope wound around her throat, with dark bruises under them and a few scratch marks that trailed dried rivulets of blood here and there. The girl could had a flash of memory: the sensation of pulling the rope tighter and tighter around the slender neck while her mother's hands scratched and clawed first at the rope, then the floor, and finally at her daughter's hands when she had realized that yes, something was terribly wrong with her daughter and no, the child was not going to stop until she was dead.

The girl shuddered, her hand shaking harder and bile rising up to her throat. She stood up on shaking legs to run out of the house, only to stop abruptly and fall to her backside the moment she turned around.

There, sprawled just inside the door that she would have run out of, was another dead body. It was almost unrecognizable due to the number of cuts all over it, with the only indication of its identity being the plain silver wedding ring that was the partner to the one on the mother's finger. The hand that wore it laid palm up a few feet from the body, with congealing blood hanging onto the torn flesh of its wrist. Several other body parts—fingers, strips of bloody flesh, an eye and a tongue—were strewn around the vicinity of the corpse, and flies buzzed around the open abdomen to land on the intestines and other exposed internal organs. The large decorated blade that had finally killed him was embedded on his chest, right above where the heart was.

The sight of the knife (which she could remember receiving, though for the life of her she couldn't remember from whom or when or why) triggered a flood of memories that had the child wailing and folding in to herself.

_Her father had gotten a job as a construction man for the new building that they were going to make at a nearby town, so they were celebrating with a feast. Her mother was working on the stove, stirring the pot of stew that was to be their dinner. The smell was permeating throughout the small room, and the little girl found herself reaching for the spoon. It wouldn't hurt to taste it a bit, right?_

" _Oh no you don't," she heard her mother say. "Wait until your father gets here, it's only a few minutes more. He just went out to get some drinks."_

" _But I just want to taste!" the little girl said with a pout. She was aware that she was probably being a brat, but the smell was just so_ good _and no one would mind if she just tasted a little, right? Her hand headed for the spoon once again._

_Apparently her mother minded, because the woman slapped her hand. "I said no. If you really want something to do, then set the table for dinner."_

_Maybe it was her mother's tone, or the fact that the child was tired from doing chores all day, but for some reason the words seemed to snap something inside her. She was tired of having to live in such a small space, of barely being able to fill her stomach with food day after day; tired of being poor in general. All her frustrations, which she had buried deep until then, lit a fire of hatred and rage in her. She felt it reach for her mind, clouding up her thoughts, and the next thing she knew she had a heavy piece of firewood in her hand that was swinging forward._

_The woman on the counter—for she stopped viewing that person as her mother the moment her mind had snapped—dropped forward, the attack having hit her across the back of the thighs. The girl figured that with such a blow, the bones were at least fractured, if not completely shattered. She had put as much force as she could, after all. But where did the strength come from, she wondered? She was of a small stature, and the lack of nourishment kept her from having much energy. Maybe the rage she felt was the source…?_

_Her absentminded musings cut off when she heard a noise from the floor. Looking down, she spotted the broken body struggling to turn onto its back. Feeling disgusted at the pitiful display, she kicked it on the stomach, causing it to turn over. Meeting its surprised and pain-filled eyes, she snarled, "You're worthless. You could barely support a child, but you went on and had one anyway, just because fucking felt good. Now who's stuck with the hard life, doing chores all day and taking care of this small shitty house? Who has to stay stuck here in the middle of nowhere, who has to walk three miles just to get to school, to be constantly hungry just so everyone could have at least a little to eat?"_

_The girl knew that all the things she'd said were things that she had thought of over the years, but never meant to say. She knew that her parents tried their hardest to give her a good life. She knew the truth, yet her body ignored her mind and her will, and continued to spew out poisonous words. At one point she found herself with a length of rope in her hands, and she watched from a corner of her mind as hands,_ her _hands, wrapped the rope around the throat and pulled, tighter and tighter, until the struggles of the body beneath her finally stopped._

_Finally she leaned back, breathing harshly. She stood up from where she'd straddled the body, grabbed another knife from the counter, and turned to face the door. A man stood there staring at the body on the floor, a look of horrified shock on his face. It was her father, but her mind refused to let her remember all the good memories with him. Instead it brought up images of him coming home tired from work and ignoring her, or times when he'd snapped at her, or times when they'd needed him and he hadn't been home at all._

_She felt the rage take over once again, and she tightened her hold on the knife she held. She approached the still shell-shocked man, who looked down at her with dazed eyes and asked her what happened, as if he hadn't just seen his own daughter murder his wife. Saying nothing, she grasped the knife more firmly and looked the man in the eye before plunging it into his belly and dragging it upward, opening him up. The man let out a choked sound and grasped at his middle in an effort to keep his intestines inside. He slid down against the doorframe, the pain and rapid blood loss making it impossible for him to stand any longer._

" _You…" The girl crouched down while playing with the bloody knife, not looking at the man but still addressing the words to him. "You're another worthless lump of flesh, you know? You never even finished elementary, you could barely get a job and keep it, yet you got married and had a kid. Not to mention, you have another family don't you?" Despite the pain he must have been feeling, the man looked up at that, surprise evident in his eyes. "Oh, you think I didn't know? Of course I do. You have two more kids with the whore in the next town. That's why you've barely been here in the last few years. That woman back there" —the girl pointed behind her with the knife— "said it was because of work, but I don't think even she believed that. Well, whatever. It's not like she could care anymore."_

 _Suddenly the girl reached out and grabbed the man's hand, and with startling speed cut off three of his fingers. The man screamed, but she ignored it and reached for his other hand, observing the wedding band there. "You even forgot to wear the correct wedding ring, you idiot." With a nonchalant face, as if it were an everyday task, she cut off the hand at the wrist and threw it a few feet away. Blood was everywhere by now, a lot of it on her, but she continued on as if it was nothing. "Not only that, you were also spying on me and my friends when we took a bath on the river, weren't you? Then you talked about it with your buddy, who decided to rape his own daughter because of that. And you were probably thinking of doing the same. You sick fuck." This time the girl reached for the man's head. He was too weak to struggle, so she quickly finished with cutting out his eyes and tongue. Urged on by an unexplainable force within her, she continued on with the torture, cutting off pieces of flesh while still talking. She had no idea anymore where the words she said came from, but she knew that they were far from true. Her father loved her and her mother; he worked hard to give them as decent a life as he could manage. None of the things that she was saying were true, and she tried to stop moving to focus on thinking, but she realized she_ couldn't.

 _Realizing that she had no control over her body anymore and feeling panicked, her mind attempted to retreat and never come back, but something refused to let her. The same thing that had started the feelings of rage in her, the same thing that had slyly urged her to kill her own parents, the same thing that had clouded her mind… The same thing that she now realized was something that did not come from her. It entrapped her consciousness and took over her body, letting her see but making her unable to do anything as it—whatever_ it _was—stabbed what remained of her father through the heart with the decorated knife that had been strapped to her leg the whole time._

_The moment the blade cut all contact with her skin, the cloud that had hovered over her mind lifted. The clarity left her dazed and her mind forgot everything for a moment in a futile attempt to keep her sane. The inhuman strength that had powered her throughout her killing spree left her. Suddenly weak, she collapsed to her knees and dropped the knife that she had gotten from the counter, and took in the carnage laid out around her._

From the woods outside the house, a shadow darker than those that surrounded it watched in silent glee as the little girl curled up and wailed. Her mind was probably totally shattered, it thought. Then the shadow became even more gleeful when the girl took the butcher knife near her and sliced her own throat, ending her own life.

_Nothing better than causing someone so much despair!_

The human-shaped shadow turned away from the house even before the little girl finished dying, already bored with what had happened. Bringing havoc and mayhem was always fun, but it was kind of disappointing how fast humans gave up. Give them a little problem, and they lost all hope. Very few ever succeeded in overcoming the challenge, and those few were the ones that demons from every realm were forbidden to mess with in the first place. The shadow sulked a bit. Why was it that the fun ones were the ones they weren't allowed to touch? It left only boring prey for them to feast on.

Then the shadow shrugged, already thinking of what it would do to its next victim. There was still plenty of prey.

After all, when a demon gets bored, humans were always a good distraction.


End file.
